Transmetal Terror
by Talon Silverwolf
Summary: Beast Wars. After the alien attacks on Earth and Optimus' return, something on the Darksyde is resurrected, too. Something familiar and dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

Wires and broken, melted metal were scattered everywhere on the Darksyde, as if something came through its hull and tore through it like a wild animal. But oh, no, it was no animal that came into the battered ship; it was an alien attack. It could indeed have ripped it in half and destroyed it completely than leave more damage on the ship. It looked even worse than before. And he believed he was going to be the one to clean up the mess—that he didn't do.

Going deeper into the damage, Waspinator walked through the corridor to see wires hanging out of terminals, some supplies, overhead lights, and vent covers had fallen to the floor. The list went on. Many of the systems of the computer were down, and the controls had to be repaired, too. He was already getting tired.

He turned back towards the empty bridge where the worst of it happened, where the surge from space rained down on Earth—where they lost two. He was lucky he hadn't been thrown from his hover platform and into the lava pit, too. Or even turned into what Megatron called—transmetals. He liked his body the way it was, thank you. He didn't want jets or wheels on his body. Wings worked well, until someone blasted them off, which he had experienced before. Okay, more than once.

Back to the CR chamber. Back to the CR chamber.

He looked at the fluid filled tank at the end of the catwalk that caught him. When he stopped near the mesh platform, he saw something black near one of the tanks. He thought nothing of it until it begin to move. Shocked, he watched a figure stand, hunched and stumbling uncoordinated, then catch itself on the edge of the tank. The moment it did, it fell forward, into it, and disappeared.

"Waspinator is not alone," he gulped, and turned quickly.

He ran down the corridor, looking for a sight of an ally; Inferno, Tarantulas, the new recruit— Anybody. Hiis search came to an end when he neared a corner. Reaching it, he rammed into something, sending him to the ground hard.

"Waspinator! What are you doing?"

He looked up and saw Megatron, in his new, impressive beast form standing over him.

"Megatron," he said nervously, "Waspinator saw something in CR tank." He pointed back. "It was a monster. It came out of the dark and fell into it."

"Megatron narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Waspinator will show Megatron." He stood and walked back towards where he came from. He led him down the corridor and back to the tank. The two stopped while they looked over the tired bridge. The hover platforms were still down. One was on its side.

Waspinator pointed at the tank in the distance. It hung above the lava below, feet away from the edge. "It was over there."

Megatron glared at him with red eyes before he walked towards it. Waspinator watched nervously, then slowly followed. As he neared, Megatron stopped and hummed in thought while he looked down.

"Waspinator, you may be right," Megatron said. "Something is here."

Waspinator uttered a curious sound and looked past him. On the mesh platform, there were large black spots, thick enough to fill in the mesh under their feet. And on the side of the tank there was a black smudge streaked across it. It looked like a hand print. He tilted his head at it and fluttered his wings.

"See? Waspinator was right."

"Yes," Megatron said. "But what may have gotten into the tank? Looks like we may have to wait to find out."

Waspinator fluttered his wings again.

Then, Megatron turned his large head to him. "You will wait here and tell me what happens. I have more important things to attend to. If it is a threat, destroy it and report to me."

"Yes, Megatron," he said, and saluted.

"Good." He then turned and walked away, leaving Waspinator alone—alone with whatever was in the tank. He stood there while Megatron's footsteps disappeared, then it went silent. It was silent the whole time he stood by it.

It hadn't come out yet, so Waspinator backed away, sat, and waited. After he made himself comfortable, sitting bow-legged, he pulled out one of his guns and set it on his lap, just in case something did show.

He couldn't keep time as he sat there; minutes, an hour or so. . . But it didn't matter. Something started to move in the CR tank. He suddenly perked up from idling by and watched. The surface of the fluid wavered for a while, then a spot of red peeked, then disappeared again. A minute after, the thing finally rose and fell out. It landed with a dull thud, then slowly stood again, stumbling, and fell. He couldn't make out what it was. The shadows hid its real form.

As it uttered a few crackling noises, Waspinator got to his feet and took aim on it. The creature finally noticed him and turned its head, showing two red eyes.

The moment the two made eye contact, thing shot to its feet and flew into the air in a sudden burst. It went in an uncoordinated circle before it took flight into the mouth of a corridor. It screeched horribly as it went.

He stood there, staring as it disappeared. It was too fast to chase, it was too fast to shoot. So he had only one option now.

He turned and ran. "Megatron!"

* * *

It sounded like an invader had infiltrated the base under their noses while they were busy with the Maximals. He seemed so sure they would have them, and without their leader as well. But in the end, they failed. How did the Maximals do it? How do they always win?

But the Maximals weren't the problem right now, it was the invader in the base. It wasn't a Maximal. The computer would have detected it if it was a Maximal.

Megatron followed Waspinator and the trail the thing left. The corridor was dark but it was nothing their sight couldn't handle. Most of the lights in the corridor were out, but he saw two at the end flickering.

Then they went out.

Megatron continued a few more paces before he saw a large shadow standing in front of them. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at it, trying to make it out. And then he saw it.

The lights above the shadow flicked twice then held their dull brilliance. What stood before them, although altered crudely, held a familiar, broken face.

"Terrorsaur?"


	2. Chapter 2

He thought he had been destroyed during the surge and thrown into the lava pits, but no, he was standing before him like a ghost. At first glance, one wouldn't recognize him, and the dark distorted him. And he wouldn't give blame for passing him over.

He still had that aero-dynamic body, slender and tall. His shoulders were larger, though, as well as other things had changed. His feet had turned into large talons, while the leg reached up to his knee at a point. His chest kept their normal red but shined in a metallic luster—as much as it could. His hands were overlapped by another set of smaller talons, and a set of wings were attached to the back of his arms. On each shoulder were cannons. A black ring was added around his red head above his brow. What gave him away was his white face. But that unmistakable face was broken open on one side, leaving a hole below his eye.

The majority of his incomplete transformed body was burned; not singed but burned. His legs and chest had the worst of it. They were darkened and the red in them barely looked red.

Terrorsaur squinted back at him in the dark. "Megatron?"

"Yes, it is I," Megatron said proudly.

"But you look different. What happened?"

"I've gone through a change. And so have you."

Terrorsaur looked down on himself. He looked at his hands, front to back, then touched his chest. "Really?"

"Perhaps we should put some light on the situation. Terrorsaur, come with me. I think you need a little more time in the CR tank."

"What's— "

"To the CR tank," Megatron insisted.

The flyer shrugged, then walked past him. Megatron watched him go, and as he did, he saw something attached to his back, but now out of what little light they had, he couldn't quite make out what it was. He caught a glimpse of a bronze and purple jet attached to his back.

The transformation was flawed but most of it had turned transmetal. If only he were pure transmetal—

Down the corridor, another light came on, flickered then held. By then, they were able to see a little more, and when it did come on, Megatron saw that indeed there were jets on the middle of his back. His wings were also bigger, both organic and metal.

Also down the hall, another figure came towards them, low to the ground and tail curved high. When the leader ahead of them, and the other, Quickstrike, saw each other, they stopped in their tracks. They looked each other up and down before Terrorsaur spoke.

"Looks like someone made you out of spare parts," he said.

Quickstrike pointed a claw at him and returned, "Looks like someone pulled you outta the deep-fryer."

Then, Terrorsaur screeched and lunged for him, but Quickstrike quickly reacted and lashed his tail out. It shot forward while Terrorsaur jumped back. The attack hit, though, with the fangs of Quickstrike's tail grabbing him by the shin.

Terrorsaur screeched in pain and went to one knee as venom coursed through his leg. He rubbed it and looked at the Fuzor. Quickstrike threw his tail forward again, the mouth of the cobra snapping at the air. "Ya need ta learn some manners, tin-horn."

Terrorsaur stood crossed his arms. "Look who's talking."

Insulted, the Fuzor clicked his claws, then lunged at him. Terrorsaur kept on his feet, although, as Quickstrike landed a strike on his shoulder, then another; these only to hurt him. He screeched anyhow.

Before the Fuzor could strike again, snap at him again, he reached out and grabbed him by the tail. He ripped him from his chest and threw him off. He watched as he landed on all eight legs like a cat.

The two stared at each other, ready for another attack. But before they could, Megatron stepped in and fired a shot between them and hit the wall. Terrorsaur jolted and Quickstrike held his claws close to his face to defend himself.

"Enough!" The four went silent while the air slowly calmed from the sudden fight. "Terrorsaur, this is Quickstrike, our new recruit."

Terrorsaur looked at the golden and teal scorpion with a sneer.

"The surge damaged his pod on the decent," Megatron continued. "We call him a Fuzor."

"Well, now that we met. . ." Terrorsaur stepped aside and walked past him. His leg soon buckled after a few steps from Quickstrike's venom. He went down in a kneeling position, then stood again and limped down the corridor. Behind him, Megatron kicked a cowering Quickstrike.

The four continued to the CR tank, walking slower with Terrorsaur's limp. When he stopped, he looked back at Megatron. The Predacon leader gestured to it. "You may enter. Hopefully this time your damage will be fixed."

Terrorsaur looked at him oddly, and looked himself over before he jumped into the tank.

* * *

More and more of Darksyde's computer systems were being revived as time went by. He didn't want to waste that time, but he had no choice; he needed the autoguns and the observation systems to be on-line to keep an eye out on the Maximals _and _the aliens. Right now, they couldn't make another attack; they had to restore their base.

Megatron was anxious and his mind was restless with plans. The aliens, Optimus, the battles he could take advantage of . . .

Standing over the war room's observation table, looking over a hologram of damaged landscape, he picked his head up to hear screaming and banging against the walls around him. They were violent bangs. And the screams were high-pitched, the screams of a certain flyer.

He listened to the sounds a little more. "Is that Terrorsaur?" he asked himself. Perhaps he and Quickstrike were at it again, their odd little way of saying welcome. He frowned at the thought, so he opened a link to Waspinator and said into it, "Waspinator, is that Terrorsaur making all that racket? Check and see what's going on."

The other flyer buzzed in his comm and replied, "Yes, Megatron."

The walls around him went silent for a minute after that, then began again with Terrorsaur's screams.

* * *

Terrorsaur felt no different after pulling himself out of the CR tank, only stronger, and the venom from that strange, freakish hybrid was gone. If he was serious, he would have done worse, or was the new bot just weak? Bah, it didn't matter, other things did.

He shook some of the fluid off after stepping out. He wasn't sure how long he had been in there but he hoped it pleased Megatron. Why had he been so demanding that he get into it again? He knew it wasn't because he was concerned.. But hey, he should be at his fittest. He was the best flyer here. He might be needed by the sound of things.

In the light, he saw his hands again. He cocked his now black crowned brows and lifted them. Whatever it was on his hands were still there. He touched the back of his hand were what felt like digits over them, and claws at the ends. They were attached to his hand. He gave one of the talons a tug and it moved. "I . . ." He looked down on his chest and ran a hand down.

He walked towards the corridor. He wanted answers before he got to this one, which was second in line. It felt like a long time had passed after the surge, but he knew that wasn't true. It was far from it.

He went down its walls with a distorted reflection following him. He couldn't see its true image, not past the darkness, so he kept in motion, until he passed under an overhead light. He saw the usual red of his body, but then there was something _unusual_ as well. He saw something at the corner of his eye and turned his head to his reflection. Then he saw himself . A reflection he didn't know. There were gray talons on top of his hands and there were retracting wings on his back. There were small vents at each side of his face, and focusing there, that was when he saw the white of his face. There was a hole, a hole that showed the gray inside. And then there were the burns. He thought the CR tank would take care of that.

What was going on?

Terrorsaur screamed. He screamed again and again. He spun around and punched the wall. He screamed and thrashed in panic and rage. His high-pitched screams could have broken glass. There were times he paused to catch himself, then he began again.

He was mindless and berserk. In his state, he withdrew a sword and swung it upwards, hitting an overhead light to bring in more darkness. He screamed as he hit another one.

He was in pure darkness. He gave the wall a few hard backhands, not even caring if he broke one of the talons.

Then, without warning, something came at him, and slammed him to the ground. "Terrorsaur!" the voice of Megatron boomed over him. "What are you doing to my ship?"

He looked up and saw Megatron standing over him.

Terrorsaur sat up. "What happened to me?" he demanded.

"It was the surge," Megatron said. "What happened to me, happened to you, too. Umm, in a way. It seems your transformation was interrupted. But you are alive, are you not? Anyway, you may learn to like your new form. You may have gained power with it."

Power? That's what he wanted to hear. He calmed a bit.

"And the Maximals?" he asked.

"The same happened to them," Megatron said.

"So they have the same power," Terrorsaur inquired.

Megatron tilted his head. "Hmm. No. Power is a word of many meanings, my dear Terrorsaur."

"Then what did they gain?"

"They've gained nothing. Don't believe they are stronger than us, no. Neither is Optimus Primal. Only lucky." He almost said the last two words through his teeth.

Terrorsaur glowered. "Then let me see." He stood and ran. His claws clicked on the floor as he went down the dark corridor and towards the hatch. As he reached the open hull, he leapt. "Beast mode!" His wings extended wide, his legs folded and tucked under his body while his robot form folded under the body of a metallic pterodactyl. As he leapt, a pair of jets burst behind him and launched him into the night air, with a silver beak pointing the way.

He wavered a bit when he took flight but he straightened once he got the hang of it and let the jets on him take control. It sure was different than relying on wind and his wings like a glider. He was the one in control.

He circled the base before he flew over the mountain with a burst from his jets. The ground below him sped by in a blur. There was no resistance or opposing wind to slow him down now.

"I could get used to this," he said to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Within an hour, he got control of his aerials. There was no more turns of his wings but the rpm of his jets and the tilt of his body. His wings were kept spread and steadied him. He practiced rolls, bursts, and dives—anything that would come in handy in battle. He made deep swoops and rose again.

He was far from the base by now, lost in his practice to care about back-up or barriers. Such things didn't matter right now, all he cared about was getting used to his new body. As he worked through his tumbles and roll, he didn't even think about the Maximals, the reason why he came out here. That was until his internal computer detected one.

"Maximal signature detected."

He nearly clipped his wing against a cliff face but he kept his balance. "Just what I need." He flew further, then began to circle the barren and rocky area. There were plenty of hiding spots, but there was no Maximal who could hide from him in the air, and this fast to boot. There were shards of rock sticking out from the ground, and the face of the cliffs were eroded. A Maximal could hide behind something but not under it.

As he began to pass four shards below, which stuck out like knives, the Maximal signal grew stronger. He swivelled his head back and forth, then finally, he saw movement and a figure below. "A Maximal!" He dove and on his decent, he screeched, "Terrorsaur, terrorize!" The moment he landed, his foot went out from under him and he landed on his backside.

It felt like he had slipped on a stone, but he slid too smoothly for it to be a simple stone. He folded one leg and looked under his foot and saw a shiny wheel under it. Curious and confused, he looked under the other one, but it didn't have one. "Where did the other one go?" He looked around himself as he sat there on the ground.

Then a voice said:

"Heh, heh, forget to put your landing gear down?"

He knew that annoying voice.

He picked his head up, expecting to see the gray and gold body of a certain rat, he saw another figure, but his processors told him it was Rattrap. He was short and he had his face; only his body was altered, although nothing dramatic. His coloring had changed, too. Maybe his own transformation wasn't so bad as he thought it was. The rat was the ugly one.

When the rat noticed who was standing across from, he uttered a confused, "Hey . . ."

Terrorsaur slowly stood. "So you heard I was gone, eh? Well, I live!"

"No, I was just thinkin' if ya weren't ugly before, you should get a good look in da mirror."

Anger seemed to go off inside him like a green flag. "You filthy vermin! Now's the time to test my new power!" He rose to his feet and into the air, and reached back where he pulled out a large rifle as long as his arm. He looked at it and grinned. "I like this. Now let's see what it can do." He aimed and fired a shot at Rattrap. He leapt back while the ground he had been standing exploded, making him fall.

Terrorsaur laughed. "Not too bad. Now give me another round." He fired again, but Rattrap was ready this time. He dodged out of the way, leaving the shot to hit the ground rather than its target. When he aimed again, Rattrap faced towards him and fired back. Terrorsaur saw it coming and dodged to the side. "Hey! The guinea pig isn't supposed to fire back!"

"Well, I'm not a guinea pig," Rattrap said. "I'm a rat!" He fired at him.

Terrorsaur dodged left then right. He centered his shoulders on him, kept his flight steady, and fired from his shoulders. The caliber jerked him more than his old cannons, but he kept his balance in the air.

He watched Rattrap dive the first. The second threw him back, although didn't hit directly.

Terrorsaur growled in fustration. "All you do is run, rat. Show me what you can do. I want to learn more about theses Transmetals." He slowly descended until his talons met the ground. He returned his rifle behind him and fired his eye beams. At least he still had that left. He fired a twin stream of red beams at Rattrap but his rival quickly withdrew two circular discs that he held up against himself and let the beams strike them instead.

Shields.

He fired again. And again. Rattrap reflected them both.

Terrorsaur bared his teeth. "Now how about this?" He rushed at him and as he did, he unsheathed his sword from behind his back. He swung at him, and Rattrap brought up his discs again. His short and curved blade hit the center of one.

"Ooh, ya wanna do it like dat, huh?" Rattrap said as he held his guard.

"I've got to try everything."

"If dat's da way ya wanna play it." Rattrap suddenly thrust his knee and hit him between his legs, making Terrorsaur back away in pain. "Well, if ya wanna go, ya gotta remember I fight dirty."

Terrorsaur growled and picked his head up. "Me, too. I kick them while their down and I backstab." He twirled his sword. "How about a little swordplay?"

"Yeah." Rattrap withdrew a staff-like object with a slight hook on the end. "So I can knock your head off!" He laughed and swung his weapon. Terrorsaur held his sword up and blocked it.

They swung at each other, blocking and striking blade to blade. Terrorsaur spun on a few of his strikes but Rattrap blocked each move. He moved fluidly and quickly.

He leapt back and fired two rounds from his shoulders. Rattrap yelped at the firepower that came at him. He tried to jumped back but the swordplay distracted him. One of the strikes from his cannons hit him on the chest and knocked him to the ground. His weapon fell from his hand.

Terrorsaur laughed after he fell.

"Hey, that was dirty!" Rattrap said.

Terrorsaur grinned. "Never bring a knife to a gun fight." He brought his rifle out.

* * *

"There's a Predacon around here somewhere," Optimus said aloud as he rode the sky upon his board. Two other Maximals, Cheetor and Silverbolt, followed him from the air; Cheetor on his right and Silverbolt on his left. "And Rattrap's around. We've got to find out where he is before that Predacon finds him."

"He hasn't answered his comm, big-bot," Cheetor said in a worried tone. "I got a bad feeling about this."

"Try to think positively, Cheetor."

"Right."

They continued through the cliffs, flying high and low, splitting up, then returning together empty handed. Rattrap's signature was close, but where?

Then their questions were answered from below. On the ground, Rattrap was there, but he wasn't alone. There was a red and gray-colored figure with him. The two were engaged in heavy battle. The other was a few feet off the ground, a flyer, and firing on Rattrap. The three of them landed atop a cliff and looked down on the two below.

"There's Rattrap, and the Pred," Cheetor said as he looked down with interest. "I'm going in!" The metallic cheetah dove down.

"Cheetor, wait!" Optimus went after him, followed by Silverbolt.

The young bot didn't listen, though, and landed near the fight where Rattrap was dodging and firing on the Predacon.

"Maximize!" He transformed, bringing himself to two feet. "Hey, you!" He brought his hands together, forming his beast's head at the ends, and released a beam at the attacker. Distracted, it hit him on the side and knocked him out of the air.

After seeing his attacker fall, Rattrap turned his head towards them. He gave a short laugh. "Hey guys, glad ya could join da fun. Look who's our guest." He gestured to the red Predacon who was sitting up.

In their robot modes, and armed, all three flyers looked on. The other began to pick himself up.

"Ah-ha!" he cried. "Three more Maximals! Even better practice!"

Cheetor and Optimus looked at him in shock.

"Terrorsaur?"

"Who?" Silverbolt asked in confusion.

"One of Meg's flyers," Cheetor informed him.

"But I heard you were killed in the surge," Optimus said to Terrorsaur.

"Don't believe in rumors, Optimus," Terrorsaur said. "Because this is what happens!" He fired his heat beams from his eyes at them, leaving the four to scatter, but not in cowardice. They turned back, and when they did, Terrorsaur dove for his rifle on the ground and rose to the air again. He aimed and fired on Optimus. Optimus dodged out of the way and fired back. The Predacon easily flew to the side to avoid it.

On the ground, Cheetor watched the enemy. "Whoa, I never saw Terrorsaur move like this before."

"Don't be fooled, Cheetor," Optimus said as he kept his eyes on the Predacon. "It's still Terrorsaur." He turned his head. "Silverbolt, distract him."

Silverbolt nodded and took to the sky, leaping before his wings caught the air. He beat his wings and rose higher until he was closer to Terrorsaur. As he did, the Predacon watched him curiously. "You must be another one of those Fuzors."

"Yes," Silverbolt said, "Now stand down . . ."

Below, the other Maximals watched.

"What does he think he's doin'?" Rattrap said. "Talkin' him down?" He then shouted up: "Hey, fuzz an' feathers! Slag him again already!"

Then, without warning, something came at the two above and hit Silverbolt. It exploded as it hit him and sent him to the ground in a brief tumble. A buzzing laughter followed. The group looked up to see Waspinator fly down from the cliffs, armed with a gun. He advanced slowly, aiming.

"Great, now we got two Preds," Rattrap said. "What's next?"

It wasn't exactly a surprise. The Predacons normally didn't work alone, at least not the flyers. If there was one, another would be around somewhere. And it looked like Terrorsaur got his scrap buddy back, no matter what he looked like.

"We send them back to Megatron," Optimus said, "In pieces." He reached back and pulled a dual missile launcher from his back and fired over and over. His first target was Terrorsaur, who began dodging but the first few shots took him by surprise. He had to dance left and right, but it wasn't enough. He clipped his right shoulder, which sent the flyer spinning backwards, screeching.

Optimus grinned. "Same old Terrorsaur."

* * *

Firepower came at him at every angle and Terrorsaur dodged quickly. He managed to avoid the manic missiles, dodging left and right. He folded one leg, he dipped down . . .

He haulted. "So, Optimus Primal, it looks like you're a transmetal as well. Impress—"

He was cut off when Optimus fired on him again. Terrorsaur screeched in surprise when a shot hit him across the shoulder and sent him to the ground in a barrel spin. He immediately picked himself up after landing and rose to the sky again. He looked around. It was two against four now; not a bad fight, but he had already suffered damage—and to one of his cannons.

"Slag," he cursed, then scanned across each Maximal. "It's been good practice, Maximals. But I'll be back! Waspinator!" He waved a hand before he turned and flew from the battle in a sudden burst. He spun and put his rifle into hiding as he went.

He waited until he was far away enough from the Maximals to slow down and let Waspinator catch up. But he had to stop and wait instead. He was hovering in the air with his arms crossed by the time he came up, panting.

"Terrorsaur move too fast for Waspinator," he buzzed when he stopped in front of him. "Terrorsaur wait for Waspinator next time."

Terrorsaur grinned. "I can't promise you that. I'm not done. Race you to the base!" He transformed and shot into the sky, leaving Waspinator behind him.

"Wait for Waspinator!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Slagging Maximals," Terrorsaur cursed to himself as he flew back towards the base. With his defeat, he wasn't in much of a hurry anymore. Oh, but meeting with the Maximals wasn't in vain; he just hated losing. But he wasn't going to lose his next plan. Not with his power, this Transmetal power.

He gave his jets another boost of speed as he neared the battered ship over the rotting mountains and cliffs. And below, in a sad display, there she was. He transformed back to his robot mode and brought himself to a stop. He looked down on the ring of lava that surrounded her. He glanced at the number of autoguns near the ship where he saw Megatron and Inferno and Quickstrike below. At closer look, they were attending the damaged guns. Megatron stood by and watched them. This brought a conniving grin to his face.

He descended towards them. As the neared them, Megatron picked his head up. "Ah, Terrorsaur," he said in a welcoming tone. "There you are. Any luck with the Maximals?"

Terrorsaur landed and stood before him. "I'm afraid not, Megatron." He spoke coyly. "But I did find more about my Transmetal body." He looked upon both hands.

"That is good, yes, but it seems you have suffered some damage."

"It's nothing. I was doing fine until Optimus Primal came along."

"Oh?"

"Right. But don't worry, I can continue here." Terrorsaur reached back and drew his rifle. "Let me show you!" He fired at the center of Megatron's chest. It struck him by surprise and sent him to the ground on his back. "Even as a Transmetal, that doesn't make you invincible, Megatron!"

Groaning, Megatron turned his head towards him. "Terrorsaur, you fool! What are you doing?"

He grinned. "What does it look like? I'm trying to kill you." He fired again but it only hit the ground beside him. He did it again and again. All missed to blind his target and kept him from getting up.

"No! Royalty!"

Terrorsaur turned his head to Inferno, the loyal and berserk. He looked at the two giant guns in the other robot's hands and knew what was coming next. He frowned.

"Traitor!" Inferno howled. "You shall burn!" He aimed one of the intimidating guns at him then pulled the trigger. Flames poured out from the nozzle. Terrorsaur jumped back and lifted himself a few feet from the sky. He glowered down on the loyal drone. "I should have taken you out first," Terrorsaur said to him. He then fired the rifle again.

Inferno sidestepped it and aimed up at him. Another burst of flames flew from the gun with Terrorsaur feeling the heat, although he was at enough distance to keep himself safe—and gain more burns.

He took aim carefully, and past the flames, he target his hand that held the gun. He fired nearly blindly, pulling the trigger at least three times, and thankfully hit him. It not only knocked the gun out of his hand, cutting off the flames, it knocked his entire arm off. It went flying behind him.

Inferno went down in a heap. As he did, Terrorsaur saw the small Fuzor, who stood alone—an open target.

"Well?" Terrorsaur said to him.

The Fuzor looked around himself, then at Terrorsaur again. "Well, what?"

"What side are you on? Mine or that incompetent fool?" He gestured his rifle to Megatron who was on the ground but not in ruins. He was on the boarder of unconsciousness.

The Fuzor looked from him then to Megatron. He mumbled something to himself before he tilted his head. "Well, ain't this somethin' . . ."

Terrorsaur ticked his rifle towards him to start him, but he didn't retreat, though. He stood there, staring back at him with large red eyes.

Terrorsaur slowly descended but kept his feet off the ground and came closer to him. As he did, the Fuzor raised an arm—well, what was supposed to be an arm. Instead, he was cursed with a cobra's head as an appendage. And the other was just as bizarre. It split open into eight long fingers at the end that came from his beast's mode's legs.

Studying the strange Fuzor, he was too distracted to notice the movement behind him. When he did, it was too late to react. A beam hit him across the chest which threw him to the ground on his back. When he looked up, he saw Megatron standing near the Fuzor who had his cobra appendage aimed at him with its mouth hanging open. He wasn't focused on the little Fuzor, though, it was Megatron he was worried about. He, too, had aim on him. He charged his weapon, ready to fire but he didn't release it—yet.

"Terrorsaur!"

He stood up and returned his rifle behind his back as if he never drew it. He quickly waved his hands in surrender. 'Wait! Wait! Wait! I can explain! It must have been the surge. It must have affected my judgement modules."

'Oh really?" Megatron said, sounding not too convinced. He then turned to Quickstrike. "What should we do to test his theory?"

"I say we slag him, boss," he said.

He turned to Terrorsaur again. "Sounds good to me." He charged his weapon again and fired. Terrorsaur didn't move this time. The hit struck him across the chest and sent him flying backwards violently. His back hit a bolder hard and he landed in a sitting position. He sat there, dizzy and unable to move. Then, after a few moments, he looked up to see Megatron approaching. Quickstrike followed to be an audience.

Terrorsaur's face dropped when he came up to him. He reached down with his weapon and now appendage that had been his tail, and grabbed him by the neck with the end of it. He lifted him off the ground, then gave his neck a tight squeeze.

"Enough excuses," Megatron said. "Try another stunt like that and I'll throw you back into the lava myself! Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh," he croaked.

Megatron threw him.

* * *

Terrorsaur had been lucky Megatron hadn't destroyed him after what he had done. But there hadn't been much room to scold or threaten him much longer. He added a few more strikes for good measure to make sure his message got through to him. And, it sunk in—for now. He still held hatred for the Predacon leader.

He was sent to the restoration module, and now that it was nearly finished, he knew better to behave for a while—until Megatron let his guard down. This time was only a mistake. He went too far, too fast.

Through the corner of his eye, he watched Waspinator attended to the last of his damage momentarily that would complete his entire restoration—his face. He laid still on a table the best he could while his fellow flyer ran a mending device around the hole that still remained. As he worked, the small pen-sized device buzzed and pulsated electricity into the wound. He started from the edge and worked inward.

As he laid there, he began to fidget, but kept his head still as possible. His patience was running thin but it was relaxing. He was safer in here than in a place where he could run into Megatron and get a glare from him. Or maybe a nice smack.

Terrorsaur moved his head slightly, causing the tip of the device to spark against his face. It made him jump.

Over him, Waspinator shook his head and muttered, "Terrorsaur does not know how to get a clue."

The End.


End file.
